


something beautiful, but annihilating

by imeldas



Category: Maging Sino Ka Man (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 03:13:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16987056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imeldas/pseuds/imeldas
Summary: Imelda and Monique through the years.





	something beautiful, but annihilating

_If the moon smiled, she would resemble you._  
_You leave the same impression_  
_Of something beautiful, but annihilating._

 

_—_

 

They first meet in the Old Haciendéro’s garden, in that spot behind the mango tree. Imelda no longer remembers why she was there in the first place—perhaps she was accompanying her father as he boldly asked for a few pesos just so his daughter could eat another meal one more day; perhaps it was some other such affair—but she was there, in the garden, sitting behind the mango tree, waiting for her father to return. She hears a voice she’s never heard before, and all at once it is soft, and bright, and impossibly beautiful. “Hello.”

 

She turns around to see a girl not older than herself, she’s sure of it, and she says hello back.

 

“What’s your name?” the girl asks.

 

Imelda is dumbfounded. This girl, tall and slender, with long, beautiful black hair—surely the offspring of one of the Madrigals’ many business associates—is talking to her, when she has no need to be. And so kindly, too. Imelda doesn’t want her to get into trouble; she doesn’t want to be the one responsible for another whipping of her father’s, care of Don Ilustrisimo.

 

"What's your name?" the girl repeats, this time in the local dialect.

 

Imelda stares at her—she can't stop—but she's also still confused. Hesitant, she replies: “Imelda.”

 

“Hi, Imelda,” the girl says. She flashes a smile and walks towards her. Imelda’s impulse is to get up and take a step back, but she’s frozen in place, mesmerised by the girl’s every move. "Are you Mang Joaquin's daughter?" 

 

"Y- yes."

 

"I’m Monique," the girl tells her, as she sits pretzel-legged next to Imelda on the grass.

 

Imelda's eyes cast down, her fingers fumble at her skirt. Suddenly the reality of the situation hits her, and it’s _absurd_. She's there—ragged-clothed and smelling of dirt—in this big, sprawling garden in her father’s employer’s land, and this girl, mestiza and warm-eyed and gentle, is introducing herself. Imelda's heart beats faster at the thought, and all she will think about, for days to come, are brown eyes and black hair—a combination too commonplace in that hot, dusty city.

 

But this much, Imelda knows: she'll be able to pick the exact shade of brown and the exact shine of black, from a crowd of absolute thousands.

**Author's Note:**

> title and epigraph from an excerpt of _the rival_ by sylvia plath.


End file.
